As the Ice Will Go
by Nite-Lights
Summary: Mary and Bert are reunited 100 years after she was under the Banks employ, and for a small moment, the circumstances are perfect. But as the winter thins and the ice melts, spring carries with it a change more permanent than the winds could ever carry.
1. Chapter 1

-one-

_Winds in the east, mist coming in… Like something is brewing, about to begin…_

A man stood on the grimy rooftops of London, staring up at a sky filled to the brim with stars. Around him swirled a light breeze, one unseasonably warm for late November.

_Can't put me finger on what lies in store…But I fear what's to happen, all happened before. _

"Not much longer now." The man mumbled, turning his gaze from the heavens and back to the cold earth below him, where late night commuters made their trek home. Streetlights flashed at empty corners; yellow, red, then green. A few short miles away, an infant woke exhausted parents with its cries for attention.

Dew had turned to frost since night had fallen, and the temperature had dropped into the single digits. But the breeze, picking up now in strength, was warm, like a spring day or a summer night. The man, who was wrapped in multiple layers, turned from his current position and made his way to the very edge of the rooftops, opposite from the very noticeable main street, and instead looked out over a darkened alley, where nothing but a stray cat or two prowled the night, looking for a bite to eat. The man looked down at his hands, youthful and strong, and he frowned. They had recently begun to shake. It had been nothing but a slight tremor at first, hardly noticeable. But now, if he focused on them, he could see it was more than obvious. Behind him, a car whirred down the street, its motor roaring as its driver pumped the acceleration, likely showing off for the passengers. The man sighed and stuffed his hands in his coat pockets.

"See you soon then." He said, seemingly to no one. But the wind surged, as if in response. He smiled and stepped off of the roof.

* * *

><p>As the years had passed, the need for chimney sweeps became less and less. With electricity and gas coming into play, furnaces took over for fireplaces and many people got rid of their fireplaces all together. During the winter months, those with fireplaces put them to use, for nostalgic purposes only; Christmas Eve with the family around the fire and what have you. Even then however, fires were lit few and far between, and there had been an invention that cleaned chimneys for you, of course. So gone were the days of the Chimney Sweep. Though he had spent many a year away from his first and favorite job, Bert still found himself spending his nights on the rooftops. In the recent years, he no longer had the company of his sweep mates, setting up a makeshift table and playing cards, having a drink or two as they waited for the sun to dawn on a new day; they had all long since left him. He could no longer welcome the afternoon and evening with Admiral Boom, or have tea with Uncle Albert, as they were gone too. Even the young Banks children; Jane and Michael, had long since left their grand and even great-grandchildren behind with a treasure trove of stories from their youth that they could pass on to their children, who are now grown themselves. Aside from Mary, wherever she happened to be, Bert was the only one left.<p>

A restless night brought the morning, where Bert woke up to greet the dawn and to headed off to work another day at the architecture company with which he had found work after he was forced to leave his last one once the other employees wondered why it was that he had not aged in twenty-five years; he noticed a thick fog had fallen since the night before. His stomach lurched at the knowledge of what, or rather who, came with the winds and the mists. But this time, he found he was not as excited as he should be. Deep in the pit of his stomach, he knew that this time was different. With that knowledge, Bert was sad, his heart ached, and it had seemed a lump had become permanently lodged in his throat. He had decided that he would put it from his mind until he had finished work for the day. It would only clog his mind and make way for accidents.

By the time Bert had left work for the day, the sky was covered completely by a thick blanket of grey, fluffy clouds. The grounds were buried with a heavy layer of snow and each breath hung in the air, a puff of smoke before vanishing. Bert smiled. He loved the winter more than most seasons. Winter brought with it warm nights and thick blankets. Winter brought a sense of peace, and a calming silence that fell over everything. Nights that held the promise of new white worlds to greet the day. Heated arguments seemed quelled and petty grudges were all but forgotten. With winter came peace, but with winter, came the prospects of spring, and with spring came change. For now, Bert chose to focus on peace rather than change, and ignored his shaking hands by placing them into his pockets as he walked home.

* * *

><p>Once everyone had gone, Bert found he could not stay as close to Cherry Tree Lane as he was, as he had his whole life. There was nothing for him and as years came and went, the location lost its allure. With Mary gone away to a new house, he had no reason to stay so he travelled. But with all the places he got stamped in his passport, he had found his way back to England all the same. For years he ran from its soft song that called him back home, he went to the farthest reaches of the earth, but finally, could not bear to be away, and home he went. He found a quaint town in the complete opposite direction of Cherry Tree Lane that seemed to escape the passage of time, at least in architectural aspects, and it was there he found a new home. One hundred and one years after he had watched Mary leave the Banks's, and seventy-six since he last saw her, and the winds had found him again, confirming that Mary Poppins had come home to London.<p>

He walked, lazily, but with clear direction, to the park he used to frequent. He knew she would be there, and there really was no point in delaying a reunion, not that he had much desire to anyway. Stopping at the gates to the park, where he used to pander his chalk drawings, he smiled and let the heavy feeling of nostalgia steep in, wrapping around him like a warm blanket. The gates had long since been replaced; the tall towering gothic doors and thick brick walls of the past with a small stone and wire contraption, that couldn't keep a large dog out. The large grassy field to the right had been tarred over to make room for a massive parking lot, and the carousel that once brought joy to many children and adults alike had been destroyed, its spot given over to benches and small grills for picnicking families. The rest of the park; the small fountains, and the winding walkways, had long since been removed, and new shiny swing sets and obstacle courses had taken up residence in their spot.

With the winter setting in overnight, the grills were not in use, and there were no picnickers. The swings only moved when a breeze pushed them, and the obstacle courses were silent and untouched. However, high on the hilltop ahead of him, where Bert fondly remembered flying kites with Mary and her wards, children surged up and down on sleds, or over in the wings, throwing snowballs and making angels and snow people. It was atop the hill where he spotted her, chiding three children who refused to wear their scarves and hats while sledding. With each wag of her finger, Bert could imagine precisely what she was saying to them. Things like assuring them that by the end of the day they would be ill in bed, and how important hats were in retaining heat in the winter months. Or the proper function of a scarf. Bert could not help but laugh, surprised at how very easy it was to remember those things about her, even though he had not seen nor heard from her in almost eighty years.

He wound his way to the back of the hill and trekked up it, making sure that he was not in her hindsight. It was a rare occasion that he could ever sneak up on her, but he would be damned if he didn't at least give it a go after so long apart. Softly stepping so not to crunch his boots in the snow, he stopped a few feet short of her left side and stood silent, watching as she called out to one of the children.

"Now, now! Jason, do hold on to the reins, we do not want your sister flying off into a snow bank." She commanded, frowning and clicking her tongue as the boy laughed at the idea of his sister soaring through the air and plunging into a mountain of snow. Each time the surrounding noises surged, he took a step closer, using the hysterical children's laughter as a cover for his footsteps.

"Eric! We do not use our sleeves as a tissue." She ordered another child, sighing in an annoyed fashion.

"And you!" she called, not pointing to anyone in particular.

"You most of all. We do not sneak up on friends that we have not seen in decades." She said, quietly, but with no less emotion as she whirled around to face Bert, a stern expression on her face. Her arms crossed over her chest as she looked him up and down.

Bert smiled and laughed, deep and bellowing. He took his hat off of his head and slapped it against his knee.

"Oh, you know I can't 'elp but to try there, Miss Mary!" He said mirthfully. Mary sighed and nodded.

"Well, you were always one for shenanigans. Oh, my dear Bert. You haven't aged a day!" She remarked, stepping closer to him and laying a gloved hand on his face briefly, before clasping her hands together in front of her. Bert shook his head and chuckled.

"Nor you, my sweet! Nor 'ave you. But does it really need pointin' out then?" He smiled moving to stand next to her.

"No. Quite right, I suppose it doesn't." She confirmed, turning around to watch the sledding children.

"So you've got three this time, eh? Not givin' you much trouble then, 'ave they?" He asked, watching as Mary shook her head slightly.

"Oh Bert, three is child's play. You would have loved, I think, the couple I worked for in America. They had seven children, and another daughter living at home with two children of her own. Now that, old friend, was a handful." Mary remarked factually. Bert shook his head and rocked back and forth on his heels.

"Bet you 'andled it with ease though, didn't you?" He grinned, cupping his hands in front of his mouth and blowing hot air on them. Mary glanced at him sideways before turning to face him, a concerned expression on her face.

"Dear Bert. My old friend…" she began, "In the excitement of our reunion, I regret to tell you I've forgotten how long it's been since we last met. Would you kindly refresh my memory?" She asked, her eyes focusing on his hands. He watched her eyebrows furrow briefly before regaining composure and mentally kicked himself for allowing her to see his hands.

"Why, that'll be seventy-six years as of June, I do believe. My, it 'as been a while, 'asnt it?" He commented lightly.

"Seventy-six. Yes, too long for friends to go without contact, I would say. Tell me then, Bert, how long has it been since I left the Banks residence? Or are you like myself, and cannot remember the date?" She pressed, giving him her undivided attention once he had stuffed his hands into his pockets. Bert smiled and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"One 'undred and one as of August." He responded definitively. Mary's expression sunk and she sighed as if she were disappointed.

"It appears then, that I am a bit late in my homecoming." She said after a pregnant pause.

"I apologize, old friend. I did not expect to be away so long." She sighed, turning and looping her arm through his.

"Now then, wots this all about? Mary Poppins, you 'ave told me time and again that Practically Perfect people do not let sentiment muddle their thinkin'. Don't tell me you've abandoned your ways. I am fine, fit as a fiddle! Don't you go worryin' about ol' Bert." He smiled, never giving her the opportunity to confirm that he was worried far more than she was.

Saying nothing, Mary squeezed his arm in response and took in a cleansing breath.

"It is good to see you again." She said finally before whistling for the children.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Oh look! A new story! So this is probably going to be a short little thing, only a few chapters, as I came up with the idea quite on the fly. But I hope you enjoy none the less, and review to let me know what you think! :) <strong>_


	2. Chapter 2

-two-

"_Herbert Alfred is a perfectly respectable name, and I don't see a thing wrong with it!" A young Mary said with a huff. Bert, who was no more than eighteen at the time, frowned at her._

"_It's also perfectly ridiculous. I don't understand why you can't jus' call me Bert like ev'ryone else!" He said angrily. Mary's face turned red and she crossed her arms over her chest and clicked her small heels impatiently on the sidewalk. _

"_Herbert. You know that I refuse to be lumped in as normal. 'Like everyone else'. I think it is unacceptable, and there is nothing wrong with my wanting to be extraordinary. Nor is there anything wrong with the name Herbert! It is perfect and different." Mary paused for a moment, her cheeks reddening._

"_A bit like you, I dare say." She added, watching as the color completely dropped from Bert's face. Soon after though he grinned and took her hand, squeezing it tightly in his as they began walking again. _

"_You think I'm perfect?" he asked, a bit quietly, as if it were some sort of secret. Mary looked over at him and sighed. _

"_We can't. You know I leave tomorrow, for training…I'll be gone three years, Herbert…We can't talk about this right now." She said sternly, sliding her hand from his and placing them in her coat pockets to prevent further contact._

_Bert sighed and accepted the silence. That was why they were here after all. For eighteen years, since they were in their prams, they came to this park every other Tuesday as playmates. As they got older, the tradition stuck, and now, every second Tuesday of the month, the two would meet at the park and walk. They would catch up on things they forgot to mention in passing, or laugh about nonsensical things Bert would dream up. _

_Each spring day that passed brought the heat of summer, and with it, the rain. This day however, the last Mary and Bert would spend with each other for three years, was perfect. There was a light wind that just made the grasses sway to a silent rhythm. The sun shone brightly in a crystal clear blue sky, small puffy clouds dotting through the blue here and there. A small family made use of the carousel to their right, and ahead of them, a variety of birds speckled the fountain, chirping to each other. It was like a scene from a painting. It was however, deceitful. Where the day itself was gorgeous, a flawless day where nothing could possibly go wrong, the events of the day were less than welcome. By nightfall, Mary would be gone, and Bert would be without his best friend for three years. And a lot could happen in three years. People can change completely in three years._

_Knowing he might run the chance of losing her forever, Bert dropped the subject of his feelings for her for the time being. He instead opted to joke around like usual, anything to get her to smile, to laugh, and anything to break their train of thoughts from what was coming. However, the end of the park was nearing, and they could now see the large iron gates that heralded the exit. They slowed upon reaching them, and passed under them even slower. As if on cue, everything they had wanted to say in the silence came tumbling out, words jumbling together, nothing either of them said resembling something coherent. Mary pressed her lips into a thin line, which was more habit than attitude, and spread her hands before her in a sweeping motion, signifying that he should talk first. Bert sighed and closed his mouth, unsure of where to start now that he had the opportunity. _

"_You're goin' to be Immortal." He spat out, the words falling like weights on them both. Mary felt a lump grown in her throat, and she simply suppressed it and nodded. _

"_It's jus'…We're eighteen now…an' when you'll be gettin' back, we'll be twenty-one…" he began, trying to find his words. Mary nodded in agreement._

"_That is generally how the process of aging works, I've been told." She said, hoping Bert would catch on to her trying to lighten the mood. However, he didn't want the mood to lighten. It was very rare that they had a serious conversation anymore, but he felt that this should be one of them._

"_You'll be twenty-one, an' you're goin' to still be twenty-one when I'm thirty, an' forty, an' dead." He said as a horrible, sickly scowl grew on his face. They had continued walking as they spoke, or tried to at least, and the park was not far behind them, they were now crossing a fairly empty intersection. At this time of day, all of the adults were at work, and the carriage traffic was all but nonexistent. A very strange expression fell upon Mary's face as soon as the words came out of Bert's mouth. Like the knowledge was with her, but never had really hit her until Bert mentioned it. She stopped and turned to face him, staring him straight in the eyes. Bert looked at her strangely, but did not say anything as Mary opened her mouth to speak._

_"Herbert. Dear dear…Bert.-" She began trying out his preferred name for a change. Her stomach tied in knots and she fought back a flush that threatened to invade her cheeks at the thought of what she was about to do. Slowly, she removed her hands from her pockets and took Bert's in them. She pulled his hands towards her and guided them to her waist. Steeling herself against the thought that maybe this was the wrong thing to do, she then moved to wrap her arms around his neck, and she kissed him. She was a bit tentative at first, but at Bert's response of pulling her closer and moving a hand up to rest on the small of her back, she loosened up, forgetting that this was everything she had told herself she would not do. The kiss intensified as Mary knocked Bert's hat off of his head and wound her fingers into his hair. Lips parted and tongues touched, the two of them feeling as if they were engulfed in fire. In an instant though, Mary broke the kiss with great intention and stared with a new sort of expression at Bert. She took his hand and began pulling him behind her as they marched through the street._

"_Come along, we have a lot of work to do and little time before I stop being selfish."_

* * *

><p><em>Mary led them up the stairs of her house and straight into her mother's room, where she pushed Bert onto the bed and turned around to begin rifling through her mother's drawers. Unable to find what she was looking for, she stormed over to the closet and dove into it, digging through trunks until she eventually emerged with a large leather bound book. Glancing at Bert, who was staring at her with a very confused look, she signaled for him to follow her. They stumbled down the steps and Mary led him into the kitchen, which was far brighter than the previous rooms, and had a large clean table in its center. Mary thudded the book down and turned to the hutch behind her, where she withdrew three large candles and a book of matches. Bert took a seat across from Mary as she lit the candles and sat down, focused on finding the correct page. Sighing in relief when she found it, she looked up and at Bert. <em>

"_I can't lose you." She admitted. _

"_You're my only friend. And I can't watch you die." She explained, turning the open book to face Bert. Bert's eyes fell to the page and began to scan line after line, his lips moving with the words he read. He looked up halfway down the page and sighed. _

"_This is selfish…" he said, pushing the book back to her. Mary raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. _

"_It is the only selfish thing I have ever committed. I won't do it unless you agree to it. This is up to you more than it is me. The spell won't take effect until we are twenty-five in any case, so we will both age the same, and we will both cease the same. Every 100 years, the spell must be re-cast; otherwise it breaks, but think of all the time we'll have. Even though I'll spend years away at a time, think of the possibilities." She said, pushing the book back to him. He sighed and took it again, reading the rest of the page. Once finished, he pushed the book back towards her and sat in silence for a few minutes, his Adam's apple pulsing erratically. After what seemed like hours, he looked up. A thin layer of sweat had formed on his forehead and his hands were shaking nervously. He balled them and placed them on his lap before nodding. _

"_Do it." _

* * *

><p>Bert and Mary sat across from each other, each of them silent save for the clink of their tea cups as they set them down or picked them up. Outside thick grey clouds threatened snow, and the wind whipped the mostly bare trees, taking with it whatever browned leaves were left from the autumn. Mary cleared her throat and set her cup down on the Formica table-top in Bert's house. Her charges were at school until three, and Mary had nothing really to do until then, other than to offer an explanation. Preparing her words carefully, she slowly opened her mouth to begin, but the words that came out we're not what she had planned.<p>

"I'm so sorry." She sighed, her eyebrows knitted together tightly and bottom lip quivering momentarily.

Bert smiled and shook his head, taking a sip from his cup before beginning.

"S' not your fault, Mary. 'Ow were we S'posed to know when it wos you'd be comin' back to London?" he said, with no remorse or animosity.

"I tried so hard, to sway where the winds would take me. But each time, it seemed to go in exactly the opposite. Eventually, I gave in and left it to its own devices. But I had always hoped it would bring me back here." She rambled, fitting a great deal of words into a small breath. Bert reached across the table and took her hands in his, which were still for the moment.

"Mary, look at me. Do I look upset by any 'o this?" He asked, shaking his head.

"I've lived lifetimes more than any normal person should ev'r be able to. I've 'ad my run, an' It was a bloody good one…but it's only fair that my time comes." He said softly, smiling and running small circles along the backs of her gloved hands. She looked down at their hands, her petite ones, unflawed and un-aged underneath leather gloves, and his rough, callused and warn. Work hands, but gentle enough to soothe with just a touch.

"But it isn't like you will simply age now, Bert. It isn't that way in the least." She sighed, picking her hands from him and rubbing her temples with her index fingers.

"I read the fine print jus' as well as you did, Mary. I know 'ow this will work. My body will age normally, but me insides, 'specially me brain, will work over-time to play catch up until the anniversary 'o the day the spell was cast. Then its lights out." He explained, to prove he had not forgotten. He laughed then, and scratched the side of his face.

"The 'ospitals will think I'm the youngest man to ev'r be diagnosed with Alzheimer's." he said, chuckling at the thought.

"That is not at all funny, Herbert. Don't you dare say something like that!" She chided, frowning and shaking her head. Bert smiled and laughed at her reaction.

"Oh, it is good to 'ave you back tho'. We'll jus' 'ave to take advantage 'o the time we 'ave an' make the most 'o it." He decided for the both of them. Mary nodded in agreement and carefully sipped her tea, making sure to leave no trace of lipstick on the glass. Changing the subject abruptly, she stood up to remove her used dishes from the counter and set them in the sink.

"So what is it you have been doing all of these years then? I know you can't have kept your original jobs." She stated, turning around to speak with him properly.

"Nah. Jobs for a sweep went out the window a good fifty years ago. Took up a 'eap 'o jobs since then. Right now its architecture. I still draw, but obviously, I can't do much in the wint'r…" He said, looking out the window at the snow falling in thick flakes outside.

"I traveled a lot, tho'." He continued, turning back to face Mary with a smile. Confused, Mary slid back over to the table and sat down.

"How on earth did you travel? And where to?" She asked, genuinely interested in his response.

"You'll do well to remember that travel methods 'ave changed since 1910, dear. There are plenty 'o ways to travel." He grinned at her and she merely shook her head.

"We could travel you kno'. You an' me…" He offered, picking tea something off of the table.

"You know I can't leave until the children no longer need me." She said sadly, sympathizing with his need to spend time together.

"Then we'll make them not need you soon'r. Simple! Be th' best nanny ev'r an' teach 'em their lessons quickly." He offered, only half joking. Mary smiled and shook her head.

"I'm not so sure that would work. But you and I will still have our time together, my dear old friend. Don't you forget that." Mary reassured him, smiling at Bert warmly. He nodded and returned the smile.

"Righ' you are, Miss Mary. Five months 'o golden opportunity." he said with a smile.

"Lets not put a time frame on it, old friend. We shall get nothing accomplished counting down the days." She said, sounding very much like a nanny.

Looking down at her wristwatch, She noticed it was time to go and collect the children.

"Would you care to accompany me?" She asked, standing up and looking at him expectantly. He nodded and stood. And just like old times, as if they never had missed a step, he offered her his arm. She looped hers through his and they made their way out of the house, Mary telling him all about this new set of children, and how she thought Bert would find them positively agreeable.

Outside, the snow fell consistently, providing more and more layers to accumulate. Bert hoped that with this sign, Winter would be a long one.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Theres chapter two! Since I know EXACTLY what I'm doing with this, and I know its going to be short, I'm really just hammering it out and getting the chapters up quickly. Remember to let me know what you think! <em>**


	3. Chapter 3

-three-

_Bert stood high atop the St. Paul's Cathedral, spotting for a sweep who was currently cleaning out the main chimney of the church, when he heard the wind. Like always, it was heard before it was felt, and it sounded unlike any normal wind he could hear on an average day. At the sound, Bert's heart all but leapt out of his chest, and began to hammer in his throat. _

"_Geoff?" He called down to the boy in the chimney. _

"_You 'appen t' know wot the date is?" he asked, listening as Geoff called back, his voice echoing in the wide floo. _

"_May third…May…S' been three years already." He said, sounding shocked. Geoff called up, thinking that Bert was talking to him, but there was no answer, Bert had found a replacement spotter, and was running for the lowest edge on the Cathedral's roof, where he jumped off and began running towards the wind. _

_Finding her at a large blue and grey house in the center of town, he took no time in pulling her into a hug and moving to kiss her, before she stopped him by placing a finger on his lips. _

"_We can't, dear Friend. It is simply not an option with how our lives are." She said, her voice deeper, her expression more knowledgeable since he last saw her. Feeling his stomach drop, he quickly suppressed his sadness at her words, how she chose to greet him after a three year separation, and smiled instead. _

"_Righ', ow silly of me. Welcome back then, Mary!" He said, offering her a cordial handshake instead. She smiled politely at him and took his hand. _

"_pleasure to be back, I dare say. It has been too long, old friend." She said warmly. Releasing his hand, she turned to face the house. Tucking her umbrella under her arm, she straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat. _

"_My next great adventure." She said, staring at the house. Taking a step forward, she called back over her shoulder at Bert. _

"_I do hope you'll be available for our traditional Second-Tuesday meetings, Bert! I'm sorry I could not stay and chat as long as we both would have liked." She said pleasantly before making her way up the steps and briskly knocking on the door._

"_Mary!" He called, noticing that it was taking a while for the door to open. She looked back, clearly irritated that she had to wait and cocked her head to the side curiously. _

"_Four more years." He said, reminding her of when the immortality spell was to take effect. She smiled genuinely at him and nodded. _

"_Four more years." She repeated._

* * *

><p>In what seemed like record time, it took Mary one month and thirteen days to get the children in practically-perfect condition. They waited at the door for her on her last day under their parents employ, and with prim and proper poise, bowed politely and wished her all the best. Mary stepped outside of the front door, stood under the archway, and closed her eyes. No wind. Not yet at least. When she opened them, Bert was standing in the street in front of her, smiling in a goofy manner, as he always did. She smiled thinly at him, and tucked her umbrella under her arm. Adjusting her hat as she went, Mary stepped off the porch, and took three careful steps forward before she heard the wind. Long before she felt it, she could always hear it. It sounded of hope and adventure, mystery and the promise of a brand new morning. Mary always welcomed the winds, no matter how much of a state she was in after leaving the children she had governed over. But today, unlike all the other days in which the winds carried her away, she did not welcome them. Before the wind could catch her, Mary hurriedly took the last few steps to meet Bert, and clasped her hands with his.<p>

"I'm sorry, my dear friend. It looks like we're too late." She smiled sadly, squeezing his hands in a comforting manner. Bert turned his head, looking for any sign of the wind and shook his head.

"It ain't 'ere yet, is it? Still got a bit 'o time then." He confirmed before turning and walking, Mary's hand held tightly in his.

"Time for what? Bert, you know as well as I that as soon as that wind gets here, I will have to go. As soon as it finds me, I have to leave…" she repeated, as if confirming for herself rather than for Bert. He glanced at her sideways and grinned, picking up pace.

"Then we run." He said simply, smiling at her in full. Mary scoffed in surprise and made a totting sound before shaking her head quickly.

"No. No, it is out of the question. How on earth would we go anywhere? Anywhere we go, the wind will find me, it would be utterly pointless." She sighed.

"'Ave you ever tried to outrun them, Mary? Or do you jus' assume." He asked, sounding a bit angry at how swift she was to dismiss the idea. The two turned a sharp corner, and under Bert's direction, swiftly progressed down the street to the small cottage Bert called home.

"I've never tried…" Mary confirmed, before continuing

"I've never tried because I never thought it would matter. Bert, why are we at your house? Now is not exactly the time for tea." Mary said, a dry sarcasm leaking into her words.

Saying nothing, Bert released her hand to unlock the front door, and ushered her inside. His house was dark compared to the unseasonably sunny winters day, and it took the both of them a good minute before the sunspots left their eyes and they could see properly again. Bert walked down the narrow hallway and into a small room, where he came out a few seconds later carrying a modest brown suitcase. He smiled at Mary, who was looking at him in a puzzled manner, and gestured for her to follow him further down the hallway. He led her to a large wooden door, closed, with a thick iron handle and lock. Rifling through his key ring for the right one, Bert produced a large cast iron key that matched the lock and opened the door. Inside the room was darker than any other part of the house. He felt along the wall for a light switch, and flicking it on, revealed a room filled with memories. The dark wood paneled walls held countless photographs on three sides, along with an abundance of letters, drawings, and cards from various holidays or occasions. His brush from ages ago was hung on the wall by a few pegs, a kite pinned on either side of it. There was a sturdy wood table neatly decorated with knick-knacks and bric-a-bracs that once belonged to friends like Admiral Boom, or Uncle Albert, or countless numbers of sweep-mates.

Mary's heart ached upon entering the room, realizing in a second that while she had decades of keeping busy and making memories that would eventually replace her old ones, Bert had decades to reminisce, and to mourn, and to commemorate. She was not surprised that the room was locked, she imagined Bert would only open it once every so often, when he was feeling particularly sad, or lonely, and he would come and sit in the large red chair that occupied the corner and talk to ghosts. Mary always made it a point to not allow for sentimentality, but she could see now, upon entering this room, this world Bert had concocted, that sometimes sentimentality was needed. It was a key component in making sure that when flooded with scents and images from the past, that one does not burst into hysterics, as Mary felt like she was about to do. Bert took her hand and led her into the room, turning her away from the memorabilia and instead, directed her to the fourth wall, that she could not see past the doorway. This wall, unlike the paneled chestnut that other three were comprised of, had been painted over with a specific kind of paint; one that allowed you to draw on it with chalk. It had been invented sometime in the early 1990s, and when it was introduced, Mary was in a small town in Colorado. The family she was working for had painted a wall as such for their children, and at first glance, Mary wondered what wonders Bert could create if he had a wall like this in his house. She could see now, what he would have done with it.

Along the wall were hundreds upon hundreds of drawings, all of them actual places. Each drawing was from the perspective of inside a house, looking out over whatever land or city scape happened to be outside the door in that particular area, and Mary could not help but wonder why Bert had chosen to draw these in such a peculiar manner. She looked over to him inquisitively and he responded first with a small shrug.

"One 'undred years, spend a great deal 'o time travelin' after you left fer th' last time. Kept 'opin that maybe I'd bump into you where I 'appened to be at th' time." He admitted sheepishly.

"Wosn't th' only reason I travelled tho'!" He added hastily, once seeing Mary's expression, which somewhat resembled pity.

"Nah, I jus'…got bored. There wos nuttin' left fer me 'ere after a while, an' so there wos no point in stayin'. Though' maybe I'd find summ'ere else, but London kept callin' me back. So back I came…'aven't left since 1986. Whenev'r I travelled, wherever I traveled, I always took up a lit'l shack some'ere…a cottage, summin' small, not too costly, that coul' be mine, yunno? An' I'd draw a lit'l picture o' this room, an' when I got back, I would draw that room on this 'ere wall. So if I ever wanted to go again, all I 'ad to do wos use me drawrin's." He explained. Mary nodded, impressed with the amount of time Bert had taken to do all of this and felt a strange surge in the pit of her stomach when she realized what exactly Bert had brought her in here for.

"We could run." She said, placing her hand gently on one of the drawings. Bert smiled and nodded.

"Wind can't catch up with yeh if it don't know where you'll be. An' by th' time it find yeh, we'll be two shakes from comin' back 'ere an' choosin' a diff'rent place to 'ide." He explained, clearly excited at the prospects at stake. Mary nodded, absently staring at the wall before sighing.

"Oh. But the wind means that there are children who need me, Bert. I can't just abandon them…" she said, sounding a little guilty.

"Mary, there will always be oth'r nannies. None as wond'rful as you, that's true, but there will always be someone else." He explained, a pleading tone in his voice.

"Yer always thinkin' of others…why not do summin fer yerself fer once?" Bert tacked on, hoping that it would be the icing on the cake. Apparently, it worked, because with a stern look, Mary nodded and gazed at the wall intently. She pointed a finger and tapped it against a picture.

"That one." She confirmed.


	4. Chapter 4

-four-

"_Their names are Jane and Michael, and they belong to the Bank's family, on Cherry Tree Lane. I fear they are going to be a bit of trouble, they are terribly disobedient when it is convenient to them, and would rather have fun all day than do a lick of chores." Mary said, shaking her head. _

"_They can be quite horrid when it comes down to it. It's fantastic!" she laughed, stopping herself short when she realized how childishly she was behaving. _

"_I'll get to stay a good long while for sure, seeing as I am positive these children will take a lot of work." She clarified, putting on a straight face as Bert grinned at her through a mouthful of salad. He swallowed his food and nodded, wiping his mouth on a napkin. _

"_I'm 'appy fer yeh! It'll be good fer yeh t' stay 'ome fer a while." Not bringing up what her staying meant to him. Mary nodded in agreement and took a small bite of her meal, chewing slowly to give them time to come up with a new topic of discussion. Smiling, she turned to him, her eyes sparkling. _

"_Tomorrow is your birthday. You'll be twenty five!" She exclaimed, realizing that it meant the spell would take effect tomorrow. Bert nodded and stood up, moving to take their empty plates to the kitchen. _

"_That I will! An' thus begins a new chapter in our extremely long friendship. Is it dif'rent then? Not agin', that is?" He asked, returning to his seat and looking at her curiously. Mary shook her head._

"_It doesn't feel any different. Same as aging, I suppose. It is just something that is. You don't feel as though you've aged, do you? Until one day you wake up and you're eighty!" she laughed. _

"_Oh but we won't, not us two! I promise you will never see a single spot or wrinkle on this face." Mary joked, running a gloved hand along her cheek. Bert laughed and shook his head at her antics. _

"_You kno' I wouldn't mind if there wos, Mary. Nev'r ev'r." At this, Mary blushed and sighed. _

"_I know. This still doesn't change anything, Bert. You know that. " She said sternly. Bert nodded but stood when she did to walk her to the door. After Mary had pulled on her coat and hat, securing them against the winds, he smiled and placed a kiss on her forehead._

"_O' course not. When 'as it ev'r?" he asked, opening the door for her. _

* * *

><p>Bert took Mary's hand and began to walk towards the picture she had indicated. He looked back at her, watching as she gave him a reassuring nod and with a grin, began to jump for the wall, but felt Mary hesitate. He stopped, turning, to see her frowning, clearly distraught.<p>

"Wot is it?" He asked, shaking his head, becoming very confused. Mary sighed and tilted her head to the side, as if she were listening to something.

"I doesn't matter where we run. Unless we go to outer space, Bert, the wind will always find me! You can't expect that it won't and you know full well that I cannot run from my duties. There are other nannies, yes, but some child, somewhere does not need another, they need me. And the wind is meant to take me there." She protested, backing up as though she were afraid Bert might lash out. Though his face reddened, growing angry, he would never swing. That was just not in his nature. Instead he stepped forward and took her arms in his hands.

"Be selfish, fer once in yer life, Mary! Please…one 'undred years is too long to keep on goin' on like we're children an' we can't do this." He exclaimed before pulling her to him and kissing her. Mary's back went rigid at the surprise of the moment, but found she had to restrain herself from simply melting into him, to his familiarity and comfort. Placing her hands in his chest, she pushed away from him, the look in her eyes a mix of confusion, trepidation, and above all; sorrow. She licked her lips and inhaled sharply, holding her breath before sighing slowly. She laced her fingers with his and gestured to the painting

"After you," She breathed her voice barely above a whisper. Bert nodded, a flood of relief washing through him, and he stepped through the picture on the wall, only realizing too late that Mary had let go as soon as all that remained of him on her side was his hand, holding hers. Once on the other side, Bert spun around, screaming her name. He watched in agony as the portal home, the drawing of his room, was hastily erased from Mary's side as she destroyed the image she had selected. In moments, a white square glared back at him. All at once, it felt as though his heart was beating out of his chest, and had stopped completely. Bert pressed his hands to either side of the square and let his head hit the wall. Tears stung at his eyes, threatening to fall any minute. Before they could though, he balled his hands into tight fists and punched the wall, releasing his anger before it had the chance to overpower him. He turned around to survey his surroundings. A small cabin, lanterns on the walls covered by a thick blanket of dust, cobwebs lacing between every corner, every facet, every object they could tack onto. A full sized bed sat at the far corner, thick down comforters and quilts laid atop it, along with several pillows. A coat rack stood by the door, holding a wool coat, hat and gloves, and a scarf while by the window to his right, a small kitchen waited as though its owner had merely stepped out to go to market.

Shrugging on the coat and scarf, he stepped outside to greet a grey countryside, the large hill the cabin sat on leading down to harsh waves crashing against a rocky shore a few short miles away. Against the alabaster sky that was seemingly endless, the waves looked black aside from the foamy caps fronting the waves. The grass, flattened by the rain that hammered around him, was a dirty green, mixed with dark brown mud and dark grey stones that littered the ground. Gulls cawed and circled the sky above him, fighting against the fierce wind that threatened to take his cap away from him, and whipped at the edges of his coat, sending brisk gusts up his torso. Bert squinted against the rain and turned slowly scanning the horizons for any sort of town or village. Miles away, at the end of a stony path at the bottom of the hill, the dim lights of a village shone through the downpour. Bert turned up the collar of his coat and began the decent towards the road, hoping to reach the village before night fall, and greater than that, hoping that a shop somewhere would have some chalk.

* * *

><p>Mary pressed her hand against her mouth, stifling a sob and composed herself quickly. She wiped the remaining chalk from her hands on a cloth that had been lying on the table next to her, and turned to leave Bert's house, her legs feeling like jelly. She had barely reached the front door before they gave out on her, allowing her to collapse in the hallway, a thick sob erupting from her throat, despite how tremendously she fought against it.<p>

"I'm so sorry…" she cried, allowing her sadness to take over for once in her life. She buried her head in her knees and pressed her back up against the wall and linked her arms around her legs. Her entire body shook, her breath came out in rasps and her hands became clammy almost instantly. Lifting her head slightly, she stared with dead eyes at the wall opposite of her, the silence of the house being interrupted seconds later by a strong wind shaking the door, as if it were knocking, asking to enter. Mary tilted her head to look at the door, knowing full well what was behind it, which wind was calling, and slowly stood on unsteady legs, balancing herself with the end table next to her. With a deep breath, she wiped her eyes and tried best as she could to push her feelings to the side. Waiting for her legs to stop shaking, she eventually found her hand on the brass handle of the door in front of her, and opening it, faced her future. She stepped into the wind, greeting it as always, like an old friend, and allowed it to carry her away from the only thing she was sure she wanted, but knew she could never have.

* * *

><p>After a three hour walk, the rain had cleared and behind Bert, a deep orange sun had begun set over the tumultuous sea. The village he had seen from atop the hill was comprised of small multicolored houses and shops, the black paved road riddled with potholes and overgrown with tall grasses and weeds. Like any other place, life seemed overly noticeable after a storm. Children ran out of their houses to play in the puddles, dogs barked, windows opened to allow a cool breeze into the house. After walking the village's main streets and most of the sides, he finally found a little craft shop where he could purchase a small packet of chalk. Not wanting to stick around, or become familiar with the place, Bert quickly made his way back to the cottage. Night had fallen long before he had returned, and a cold wind had provided constant company the entire journey.<p>

Bert closed the thick door behind him and bolted it, not wanting to risk the small chance that the wind could blow the door open and ruin something. Retrieving the packet of chalk from his coat pocket, he promptly set to work, drawing a close to accurate rendition of the front of his house before deciding on drawing instead the room he had left, some small string of hope connected to the idea that maybe Mary was there waiting for him. He erased his work and drew his room from the perspective the drawing on the other side would have offered had it not been erased. He appraised the finished work with a satisfied nod and wiped the chalk residue on his pants before jumping through without a moments of hesitation.

Emerging on the other side, the room waited, empty save for the furniture, silent save for the clock in the hall. He flung open the door and ran down the hallway, looking in each room for any sign of her before pulling open the front door with urgency. But once he stepped outside, the only feeling he got was one familiar to him, one he had been feeling time and again for the last hundred years. Mary had gone. The winds had carried her away, like they always did, like they always would.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sweet tea and biscuits. I am so sorry it has taken me five freakin' months to update this. I promise to be more diligent in finishing this story! <strong>_


	5. Chapter 5

-five-

"_So…they're all set then?" Bert asked, his eyes turned down, seemingly captivated by the concrete below him. Mary nodded and sighed. _

"_You know, you must have seen this coming! You helped a great deal!" She exclaimed, actually sounding a bit angry at him. She fiddled with her gloves and hat, uneasy about the current conversation _

"_Well…it touched on a sore spot wit' me, I nev'r 'ad th' opportunity they 'ave! Those kids get t' spend time wit' their father, I wanted t' 'elp 'em! Would yeh rath'r I did nuttin, an allowed them t' wond'r why their own dad nev'r loved 'em or spent time wit' em? An' wot would you do, then, Mary? Stay 'ere forever? You kno' well enough' you couldn't…an' yeh were prepared fer this from day one! So why are yeh yellin' at me?" Bert asked, fully defending himself, confused as to why she was so uneasy about this departure, an event that was completely uncharacteristic of her. She rolled her eyes and him and placed her hat on her head._

"_You're completely right. I'm sorry…you were only helping the cause…that is what I'm here for after all, to help until they no longer need me. I apologize for getting so cross." She said, looking as though whatever anger she had simply slipped out of her. She knew he was right, and once again, she was just being selfish._

"_Besides, Bert! It seems this is our last night together for who knows how long! We shouldn't spend it bickering. What sort of friends would we be if we allowed that to happen?" she said, smiling at him and pressing her hands together in front of her, the picture of perfect composure. He grinned at her and offered her his arm, like he always did, and nodded accommodatingly._

"_Righ' yeh are, my dear! We'll not let this bring us down. Asides, we've got plenty o' time left, seein' as eventually ye'll find yer way back t' London. Yeh always do! So this is 'ardly a goodbye. Jus' anoth'r 'see yeh lat'r' sort o' thing. C'mon, I'll walk yeh 'ome." Bert offered, stepping away from his front porch and walking with Mary down the street towards the Banks residence. _

* * *

><p><em>Come morning, Bert had found himself on the corner by the park he and Mary frequented on her Tuesday's off. He had been offered the job of selling Kites for a friend and the weather was too perfect to pass it up. However with the perfect weather came a peculiar wind that never seemed quite as harmless as the other winds.<em>

_Around noon, Bert had the pleasure of selling kites to the Bank's children and their father, who was for once eager to spend time with his family. As the ran up the hill behind him to catch the wind, Bert turned to watch, spotting a curious looking cloud, a speck atop it that didn't quite seem to belong, but didn't seem out of the ordinary if you weren't specifically looking for it. He smiled and took his hat off, waving it in the air as a farewell. _

"_So long, Mary Poppins! Don't stay away too long…" he called, to himself mostly, but hoping she could hear him somehow._

* * *

><p>As the days passed, Bert had begun to realize the small changes that came with aging. If one was normal, they never would have noticed a slight wrinkle here, or a small spot there, but Bert was not normal. Nor was he aging at a normal rate. His body was trying to catch up with all the years he missed, and was attempting to do so as quickly as possible. In a short two months, Bert had gained two years in appearance. While still appearing to be in his 20's, the rapid acceleration of his aging worried him. If it took only two months to get a years' worth of age, what would he be reduced to by the end of the year?<p>

Bert had wasted no time in getting back to work, back to his daily routine after Mary left. He didn't want to sit around and brood all day, even though he would have liked nothing more. But wallowing would get nothing done, would bring no one back, and the more work he had to do, the more distracted he was from the possibility that he would have to wait a long time to see her again. So by day, he filled his time with various odd jobs and steady employment as a foreman for yet another construction company, and as the hours ticked by nobody would suspect anything was amiss. He was jovial and full of quick witted quips and an infallible sense of humor and good spirits. It wasn't until he retired for the night, sliding beneath the covers in his dark bedroom that an insufferable weight pressed down on him suffocating him until he fell into an uneasy slumber. He would call out her name in his sleep, his hands reaching for things that were never there, and in the morning he would wake with pounding headaches and a nauseous feeling deep in the pit of his stomach.

So for months, Bert went through the same motions. Each morning he would look out the window and watch as the mornings were a little lighter, then shorter, as the seasons passed one by one. Winter had faded into a fast spring, and that into a sweltering summer, and by autumn, Bert had aged to nearly 35. Still young to most everyone, hardly noticeable to anyone but him, but his joints ached, his back cracked at every chance, and he found it a little harder to wake up each morning. Winter came with an early frost, and the brown leaves left hanging on the trees all fell in one night. With a steady and chilled wind, the last season blew in with a force, marking almost a year since Mary had left. A year, come January, just three short months away.

With the winter, the construction company he worked for naturally took a recess, which gave Bert more time than he wanted to be by himself. He bought a small tree to decorate for the holidays, and strung some lights, but had a small dinner of Chinese take-out come Christmas and wound up taking all signs of the holiday down before New Years'. January arrived quickly, and everything stopped when it brought with it the largest snow storm London had seen in years. The days just became a string of time-tested motions; wake up, eat breakfast, take a walk, accept an odd job here and there, come home, sleep, repeat. It wasn't until February, when Bert had realized that it had been over a year, and he had appeared to have passed 40 years old in appearance. But it was a long winter, and maybe she would still come back. When March came, he had found a new mantra; 'it's still winter, maybe she'll come back', which only changed with the seasons. Throughout April and May it was 'it's still spring, Maybe she'll come back.' And by summer, the mantra was forgotten. He was nearing 50, and she was never coming back.

* * *

><p>Three winters had come and gone. Three years since Mary had not seen Bert. Always perfectly composed, she returned to London on a mild spring day, and was surprised to find that the wind had carried her to none other than 17 Cherry Tree Lane. Confused, she rapped on the door with her umbrella and waited, poised and reserved, the open door revealing a woman who looked much like Jane did as an adult. She smiled politely at the woman and nodded her head, stepping right in and routinely explained all her rules and stipulations to the woman, who happened to be Jane's Great- Granddaughter, and her husband, along with their three children. They had inherited the house from Jane's Granddaughter when she had passed nearly 20 years ago.<p>

'_So it has been this long.' _Mary thought to herself. _'Jane and Michael are long gone, and here I am, nanny to her great-great grandchildren.' _ The thought left a bittersweet taste in her mouth; she had really come full circle, hadn't she?

The children she had been charged with were terrible, disobedient, and young. She could already tell she would be here for a long while, so after unpacking, she spent her time acquainting herself with them, two girls and a boy, and attended to her duties as required. It would be two weeks before she would get her Second Tuesday off…before she could find Bert, before she could apologize for everything.

* * *

><p>On her first day off, Mary left the house as quickly as she could. The children had been assigned a play-date with another family's children, so they were well taken care of for the day, and Mary swiftly walked to the park, hoping she would find Bert there, as she always did. But the wrought-iron gate and brick wall that bordered the park were now surrounding an apartment complex, and Mary's heart sank. She would not find Bert here; he likely hadn't come here for Second Tuesday's in years.<p>

She then made way for his house, hoping that she would find him there, and if not, she would wait for him. But when she arrived, though it was still standing, it was not Bert's house any longer. A swing set and a slew of toys littered the front yard, garish and ridiculous arrays of lawn ornaments stood against a small garden under window boxes filled with bright pink flowers. The house itself had been painted in cheery whites and yellows. Her heart sank. There was nowhere else to look. She slowly began her walk home, taking a longer way, passing a set of new office buildings and a state of the art hospital that was not there during her last stay in London. Looking up at the building, which stood at least 30 stories high, a lump caught in her throat, and fearing the worst, she walked towards it, through the sliding doors and up to the young nurse behind the desk, who was idly playing a game on her computer. Mary cleared her throat to get the girls attention and when she looked up, smiled curtly and placed her hands on the desk.

"I…I'm looking for a patient, I'm not sure if he's here, but he is a very old friend of mine, and has lived in London his whole life…I haven't seen him in years, and I was wondering if perhaps you would tell me if he is a patient here." She spat the words out, sounding nothing short of rude and impatient, but she couldn't help but sound anything less. The woman sneered at her and opened the database on her computer.

"A name, ma'am?" she asked, ready to begin her search. Mary cleared her throat and sighed.

"Bert…ah, Herbert? Herbert Alfred, although I would think he goes by Bert, still." The woman behind the desk did not type a single word, only smiled as if reminded of a great story. She stood up and grabbed a small scrap of paper and pen from behind her and jotted down an address, a mere four blocks from the hospital, in the heart of London.

"He is a patient here, actually. But I'm afraid you won't find him here, ma'am. Not if he can help it, at least. This is his address though, we asked he stay close to the hospital so we can check on him. That Bert…he sure is something, isn't he? Are you a relative of his or something?" The nurse asked, the fact that she spoke of Bert as though he were an eccentric old man irritating Mary to no end. She grabbed the piece of paper from the counter and nodded her thanks to the woman, tucking it into her coat pocket.

"Or something…thank you." She said before swiftly turning around and exiting the hospital. She had found him.


	6. Chapter 6

-six-

"_Ah, I'm sorry, I must have the wrong address…" Mary said, checking her scrap of paper, now crinkled beyond repair from stress. The woman who opened the door gave her a speculative look. _

"_Who is it you're looking for, ma'am?" She asked, her voice pleasant, light, like the ringing of bells. Mary turned on her heel and shook her head. _

"_An old friend…" she said. "But I can see I have the wrong address. Perhaps you can direct me to which apartment he is in then? Herbert Alfred? Although he'll deny any name but Bert." She said, hoping the woman could help her. She opened the door wider and smiled a toothy grin._

"_You must be Mary! Oh, how wonderful! He's been expecting you, why don't you come in, please!" She exclaimed, linking her arm through Mary's and drawing her inside. _

_Mary surveyed the apartment; a long tan hallway, with three rooms branching off on either side; a small den, playing host to a couch, a television, and a coffee table. A kitchen; complete with white cabinets, a small dinette set, and a state of the art refrigerator, and a room where the white door was closed shut. The woman, whom Mary had still not figured out her purpose, pointed to the closed door and nodded at her. _

"_You'll find him in there. Go on!" She told her, giving Mary a little nudge towards it. Her hand found the doorknob, and turning it, opened up to a dimly lit room, a large four post bed at its center, the man occupying it hooked up to several different machines. To one side, a wardrobe sat, an umbrella stand behind it, holding instead a group of chimney brushes. Across the room on the other side of the bed, a small bedside table sat, with a silver tray atop it, holding tea for two. And a lounge chair just behind that, turned to face the bed. Meager surroundings, but if the man in the bed was who the woman said he was, Bert would like it just this way. _

"_Yer back…" The man called, his voice weak, tired. Tears immediately sprang to Mary's eyes, and she rushed to his side, taking his hands in hers. He had aged so greatly, so quickly. Now, he could easily pass for 90, perhaps even 100. The side effects of the spell would have accelerated as he drew nearer his designed age if he had never been enchanted. _

_Mary opened her mouth to speak, but found no words. She tried again, still nothing. Instead she clutched his hands tighter and leaned her head on his arm. So warm, but it did not move to embrace her. _

"_I'm so sorry." She whispered, at last feeling a hand press against her back. She looked up at Bert, who was watching her with crystal blue eyes in the same manner which he always looked upon her; with adoration and understanding. A few more tears escaped her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away. _

"_How can you not be angry with me? Please, please tell me you are. I deserve it, you must be positively livid….please." she begged, but only a smile crept onto his face. _

"_M' not angry." He told her after a pregnant pause. That affirmation only broke her heart more. She had run away from him, deserted him and forced him to wait so very long, and he wasn't even angry. She squeezed his hand tighter as his free one found her cheek, his calloused thumb running small circles on it, wiping away any tears. She sighed sullenly and glanced over at the tea tray, raising an eyebrow curiously. Bert opened his mouth, but it took him a while to actually form words. _

"_I've been keepin' it ready fer yeh. Ev'ry day…in case yeh ev'r came 'ome…" He admitted, shrugging at it and sighing mechanically. _

"_Welcome 'ome…"he told her, smiling at her as genuinely as he could as his breath grew shorter. An alarm began to sound, and the woman who had answered the door walked in promptly and pressed a few buttons on the machine next to him, administering more oxygen through the small piece that was fitted to his nose. Bert nodded his head towards her and told Mary; "Me nurse. She takes good care o' me…." He said, taking the girls hand and patting it affectionately. She smiled warmly at him and kissed his hand, as though he were her father, and walked out of the room. _

"_Why aren't you in the hospital? It was the first place I checked after I found you were no longer at the cottage. Why here?" She asked him, watching as he mulled over the answers._

"_I didn't want t' be there when…" he began, but he trailed off for a minute or two, trying to say everything with the perfect words. _

"_They wanted me close tho', so they gave me this place. It's nice…rent free…"he mused, looking around as though he were surveying it for the first time, before his eyes fell on Mary. _

"_M' so old, Mary….now…M' so, so old." He said, telling her what he needed to without actually saying it. This brought a new wave of tears, and Bert slid over in his bed, making room for when he pulled her to him, drawing her head to his chest. He kissed the top of it, and smoothed her hair back. He had only wanted to see her once more, and was content now that she was with him. He didn't have to wait anymore. She had found him, as she always did, for the last time._

* * *

><p>Taking hold of a small hand, Mary led three children across a busy intersection, making it clear that they should never cross before checking traffic first. They had a long walk ahead of them, and she was sure they would get delayed by the two older daughters wanting to window shop.<p>

London had changed so much since the last time she had seen it, through a fog, with muddled thoughts and no cares for much of anything. But now on this bright day, three short months after receiving new charges; three sisters with parents who were always too busy with work for family time, she truly saw how much different it was than when she was a child. Buildings seemed to touch the sky and cars whizzed past them at alarming speeds. Vendors lined the streets, calling out from their kiosks and corners, declaring they would have better prices than any of the fancy shops behind them. But the four of them would not be stopping today, not at any kiosk, not at any shop. They were on a mission. The girls had wanted to meet the man that was in all of their bed time stories. A charming and debonair Jack-Of-All-Trades, the pinnacle of class, devilishly handsome, but only ever had eyes for the heroine of the story. They were so very in love, and they would always find each other no matter what foul wind tore them apart. And he would always wait for the heroine, no matter where she was, no matter how long she was away. The girls had become quite infatuated with this hero, and when Mary had told them he was a real person, they simply had to meet him. Made her promise to take them to meet him on the very first chance they got. So today, with the sun brightly shining and a few white clouds dotting the turquoise sky, she led them through the city of London. They stopped at various landmarks that the girls would remember from the stories. They stopped at an apartment complex whose wrought Iron gates used to protect a charming park with a carousel at its center, and a bank, where the hero had liberated a lost employee and taught him how to love his children. They also visited a glistening white house with a lattice fence and a green yard, where the dynamic duo spent their evenings dancing and counting stars, and a small cottage where the hero himself lived for a good long time.

At last, they had reached their destination. Mary inhaled slowly as she set her eyes on the large area, a small cottage for the Keeper sat just beyond the stone wall, and a gravel path led them inside, past so many heroes and heroines whose stories were told also every night to weary children. They followed the path, which twisted and turned, which went under a long tunnel and across a small stream via a wooden bridge marrying the two sides together. At last, the four came upon a large willow tree, its heavy branches weeping onto the ground, surrounding a stone monument. With a heavy heart, Mary led the girls up to it, and releasing the younger girls' hand, carefully knelt down in front of the stone and tucked her skirt under her knees, beckoning for the children to join her.

"This is 'im, then?" One asked, speaking with a cockney, just as the others would. She smiled and nodded, pressing a hand fondly to the grave, where her fingers traced the name and epitaph carefully. There was no date, no one would ever believe it if it read that he was almost 200 years old when he left.

"This is him. This is Bert." She said, turning to smile sadly at the girls. The youngest, a blonde haired, bright eyed thing who had all the imagination Mary had always wanted nudged her way under her arm and pressed her small hand to the grave, resting her head on it next and whispering; "Yer stories are me fav'rite. S' a real treat t' meetcha, Mr. Bert." She said, giving the stone a small kiss and settling into Mary's lap.

"So 'e wos real? Really an' truly? An' all yer stories? Them too?" The second eldest asked, staring in disbelief that the man she had identified so much with, had so believed was some made up legend, was right here. Mary nodded.

"Oh yes. He was real, and all the stories. I experienced them! Every last one." She admitted, her eyes settling on the small wild daisies that had sprung up around the base of the stone. The eldest daughter, a girl of fourteen with tawny hair and eyes greener than the grass below them raised her eyebrows in shock.

"So all o' them stories… They wos about you, then! All our bed time stories? They wos stuff you an' 'e did t'gether?" She asked, staring at the headstone with a new appreciation. Mary nodded and laughed a little at just how surprised they were.

"I certainly did. They were the best times of my life; I wouldn't trade them for anything." She admitted, recalling them then fondly, her heart beating just a little faster. The girl in her lap looked up at her with her thumb stuck in her mouth and removed it when she went to ask a question.

"Did yeh love 'im, Mary Poppins?" Her voice was small, but in those words held every hope that they were the greatest lovers, better than any movie they would ever see, any book they would ever read. Mary nodded and kissed the top of her head.

"I did, pet. I loved him a great deal." Her words were soft, as if she would break something if she spoke louder. The girls giggled in unison and smiled at Mary as if she had just told them the greatest secret ever.

"D' yeh miss 'im terribly?" One asked, laying down flat on her stomach and relaxing her head onto her arms.

"Oh yes. Terribly…but he hasn't really left me, you know. I carry him right here…" she said, touching her heart, and pressing a finger to each of the girls' hearts. "That is where all of our loved ones go when they leave us. And the more you loved them, the more of your heart they take up, and the longer they stay with you." She explained, her eyes falling on the stone once more, finding that even now, she could not look anywhere but where he was.

-The End-

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><p><em><strong>Welp. That's it! The end of this story. Told you it would be short. I'm glad I finished it though. Please please tell me what you think! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.<strong>_


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